


denim jackets and destruction

by Thatonekidolliewrites



Category: IT - Stephen King, It2017 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Reddie, Slow Build, Slow Burn, rebel eds au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatonekidolliewrites/pseuds/Thatonekidolliewrites
Summary: Eddie didn't fully understand why it hurt so much to see Richie like that. No one else fully understood why he started acting the way he did. Richie didn't fully understand what he did to lose his best friend.
Relationships: Connor Bowers/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 35
Kudos: 434





	1. it all fell apart

It all fell apart when Eddie saw it, when he saw hands clutching the Hawaiian shirt he had made fun of earlier that day, when he saw his best friend with his back to the wall behind the arcade, locking lips with someone Eddie had never seen before. When he saw Richie's fingers tangled into that boys hair. It made Eddie's stomach turn, his legs were moving faster then his brain. Sneakers hitting pavement, lungs burning, everything burning. He didn't know what was wrong, he didn't know why his chest felt like someone was crushing his ribs, like they were squeezing his lungs, stopping his heart. He thought his tears were just cause it hurt, what hurt he didn't fully understand. It scared him. As he sat there on the curb, doubled over. Tears dripping down his cheeks onto the road. He scrambled through his pockets, he was gasping for breath like he was drowning, he needed his inhaler, he really needed it. Eddie didn't know what to do that day, or the rest of the week, or any time he saw Richie. When Richie acted like nothing had changed.  
Why was he doing that, kissing that boy? Why did he seem so happy pushed up against the wall with his glasses all messed up and his hair getting dirty. Did he know how many germs were in human spit, did he even care? He didn't seem to, cause he was just kissing that boy like nothing else fucking mattered to him. Who even was that boy? Why would Richie kiss him of all people. He wasn't even Richie's type. Every time Eddie had ever seen Richie flirt was with brunet girls, the ones with nice freckles who thought he was gross, but even when they said he was gross they gave him their phone numbers anyway. Blonde wasn't Richie's type, it never was, it makes absolutely no sense. Eddie could feel his lunch pushing up his throat, that sting of stomach acid, of his body rejecting itself. Puke was never a good thing, especially when Eddie wasn't sick, or maybe he was sick, maybe he had caught something, he bets Richie would catch something.  
The walk home was, well, blurry. Every time Eddie would get the tears out of his eyes new ones would replace the old. Like a leaky faucet in the broken home that was his chest. Everything ached as he walked, keeping his head down, trying to clean himself off before he got home. Trying to spit away the rancid taste of vomit in his mouth. No matter what he did though it stayed, and so did that image of Richie and that boy. Even when he was home, when he was in his room and had taken the meds his mom got him for any pain it still hurt, it hurt to breath or blink or even move from the ball he had curled into, surrounded by blankets, blankets that smelt unmistakably like his best friend. His best friend who swapped spit with random boys behind the arcade, his best friend who forgot that he was supposed to meet him in the library to tutor him in math, his best friend who ditched him for an hour in that library knowing damn well how dusty it is.  
He wanted to be mad, he really did. Eddie tried for weeks to be mad. He tried to snap at Richie when he made a dumb joke. He wanted to ditch him when they made plans. He wanted to tell him to cut the crap cause he saw everything. But, he didn't. He laughed at every horrible joke and he arrived early when they made plans and he bit his tongue about what he saw because maybe, just maybe, if he ignored it, it would go away. It didn't. If anything he was the one who'd end up gone. Every time Richie laughed it hurt, every time he smiled, every time his stupid pretty lips uttered one of his idiotic pet names it made Eddie crumble all over again.  
Everyone saw it. They saw how excited Richie got for his plans after school. When he'd sneak away durning lunch, making sure no one would follow him. Ben noticed what it did to Eddie first, when he followed him into the bathroom after Richie ditched him. Eds never was very good at hiding the fact he was crying. With his legs pressed up to his chest in the corner of the bathroom, head hidden by his knees he sat there, sobs only slightly muffled by his arms.  
"Hey," Ben was cautious, normally Richie was there to make Eddie laugh or comfort him or something but this time he wasn't, and Ben didn't know what to do,"Eddie?"  
"What?" the boy's voice was small and choked out a bit as he tried to stop crying, so not to embarrass himself.  
"Do you want me to go get ri-"  
Ben got cut off before he could even finish the name. Eddie lifted his face from between his knees as he said it, a sharp clear no, eyebrows knit together as words kept flowing, poison spilling from his lips.  
"I never want to see that stupid fucking trash mouth ever again,"


	2. natural painkillers

Eddie did see Richie again. He saw him every day. He saw him smile and laugh and make foolish jokes. He hated it. He hated sitting English and listening to Richie's voice as he reads out loud, he hated sitting in science and watching Richie mess around with the tools and draw dicks in the books. He hated that he was exactly the same, that nothing was different about him, that it wasn't this big change after what happened, he despised it. Eddie started skipping those classes, not fully, he'd ask to go to the nurse of the bathroom, wouldn't come back until class was about to end. Richie didn't seem to care about it, he didn't even seem to notice. He never stopped those jokes, he never stopped showing off, he just never stopped.  
Eddie would sit in the bathroom quietly, his knees pulled up to his chest and tries not to cry. He refused to let Richie make him cry again. So he didn't. Sometimes he would go to the nurse and lay in the weird dark nap room, he would try to sleep sometimes, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Richie. His ugly glasses and his stupid soft hair and gross shirts. When he knew he wasn't going to come back he would take his work so he could do it there. Eddie soon started to completely skip class, not just the ones he had with Richie, math, and history too, just cause he didn't like them. He would go home early some days or just not come back to school after lunch. Well, home was a stretch. Eddie would go to get french fries, he'd sit on the side of the road until the sun was low in the sky and it would start to get cold soon.That's when it happened.  
He heard them before he saw them. Bowers and his friends. They came along with yelling and crashes. Normally it'd scare Eddie to death, but he didn't feel like getting up, he knew he should've gotten up but he didn't. He sat and he waited. Nothing mattered. When they took his bag and threw it back in his face, when Henry grabbed his shirt and pulled him up. Eddie didn't know if he was more disgusted by the smell of his breath or the feeling of his warm spit against his cheek. Eddie felt like he was watching it all happen from someone else eyes. Watching, like if his life were some kind of movie and he was an uninterested audience. The only thing that he did find interesting was some blonde curls out of the corner of his eye. For a second he didn't know why it mattered, until he blinked, that horrible image burned onto the inside of his eyelids, until he saw Richie's fingers dragging through those curls. Something then changed, something in his fingers started to buzz. Something made his face go hot and his legs lock.  
"Let the fuck go of me Bowers," he hissed, hands balled into fists.  
The bully seemed a solid bit taken aback but not for long, sneering in Eddie's face, "Or what?"  
Eddie's brain was gone, it was just a blur of horrible judgement. His brain had slipped out his ears and all energy that was made for thinking was thrown into his arm as it swung hard into Henry's jaw. It hurt, no one ever told him how much it hurt to punch someone, Eddie was sure it hurt him more then Henry. It cracked when it contacted, and fuck did it sting. The thing was though, Eddie liked it. He liked the rush, he liked the power, he liked the adrenaline buzzing through his bones. He liked the feeling of his fist hitting skin. So he kept at it. Over and over again. Any noise was gone, it was a faint ringing in his ears. His lungs tearing themselves apart as he threw his fists at anything that moved. He went tumbling down on top of Henry, arms lifting together to be brought back down on his skull with a loud crack. After that Bowers didn't struggle. The others though, pulling Eddie off of the unconscious boy. They were yelling, hitting him, shaking Henry. Eddie had blood on his hands, he didn't know what was his and what wasn't anymore.  
Eddie felt good for the first time in weeks, feet dragging as he walked back home. His body ached more and more as adrenaline wore off, as the cuts started to sting and his legs felt like jello. He could feel that something in his hands was broken, his lungs and chest ached but it wasn't like when he saw Richie, it was softened by natural painkillers. Eddie finally felt alive.


	3. broken knuckles

Bev had caught Eddie sneaking out of class multiple times. She was the first one to notice the bad makeup job he did on his first black eye, it wasn't hard to see through the cheap concealer he bought, it was the complete wrong color, not blended no doubt cause it hurt too much, patchy. She didn't call him on it the first time, she found no reason to. Bowers was an ass to all of them, the odd black eye or broken nose wasn't new to the losers, but Eddie keeping it a secret definitely was. Ben had told her about their little bathroom run in, about what he said. He was sneaking off from another English class when she stopped him. Well, less stopped him and more joined, he seemed on edge. She linked her arm in with his, staying quiet until they got out of the building. She could see the fresh cuts under his bad makeup job.   
"What the fuck Bev," He hissed, lip curling a bit.   
"Your makeup is bad, we're getting you some better concealer, and some wraps for those nasty knuckles."  
"That's none of your business."  
"Listen man, I don't mind if you get in fights, like stand up for yourself but you need to take care of yourself too."  
"Whatever."  
Even though he seemed standoffish he didn't do anything to pull away from her. Eddie had his backpack loosely slung over his other shoulder, face stone cold. They walked in silence to the drugstore, Eddie wanted to go straight home, or at least sit under the bridge for a while. Throw rocks, punch someone or something, draw dicks, mostly he wanted to punch something. The drugstore wasn't the worst thing though, he could scramble through his backpack to find enough change for a candy bar or something. He didn't know how Bev would pay for the makeup and the disinfectant.   
"Where'd you get the money for this stuff?" he mumbled, leaning against the shelves of makeup and stuff. She was holding up different shades to his face. Bev smiled a bit before slipping the tube down the sleeve of her jacket.   
"I have a," she smiled a bit, voice quiet,"hundred percent discount."  
Eddie watched her with wide eyes as she left the isle to slip down the next couple isles over.   
"Bev are you seriously stealing it," Eddie mumbled, now incredibly conscious of everyone around them in the shop, no one seemed to notice. It couldn't be that easy right? Something had to happen, right? But nothing did. Even when Bev went into the bathroom with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls and came back out with a full backpack and neither of those two items in sight, even when Eddie slipped his snickers bar into is jacket pocket. They walked out like it was nothing at all.   
Bev and Eddie made their way down to sit under the bridge. She wiped away his bad makeup job to clean his cuts. Eddie's heart was pounding, the same kinda pounding as when he punched people, that adrenaline fueled buzz, and this time with no broken knuckles, or at least new broken knuckles. Bev talked him through how to blend concealer in without hurting his bruise.   
"Eddie what's up with you?" Bev asked, voice gentle, hands now wrapping Eddie's knuckles up.   
"Nothing," He lied.   
"Ben told me about the bathroom thing, what happened with you and Richie?" she wasn't buying any of what he was selling.   
Eddie was quiet for a minute, "he."   
She was patient with him, his voice caught in his throat when he thought about it again, he had shaken the thought about a week or two ago. He wanted to punch something again.  
"He was kissing Connor Bowers behind the arcade when we were supposed to be studying, so, I wanna rip his head off and throw it in the trash composter," He growled out.   
"Oh Eddie im so sorry."  
"Why?"   
"Well, seeing a boy you like, well, kissing someone else, it has to hurt."  
"What! I don't. Bev its not. Beverly I'm not gay!"  
She put her hands up in a false surrender, "woah Eddie, I, I'm sorry, I."  
He shook his head a little, "I don't care that Richie is, I mean, I'm like, I'm fine with it, its just, Connor? Seriously? Connor fucking Bowers? Out of the whole town?"  
"I don't know Eds, boys are weird sometimes."  
Hearing that made Eddie's lip curl up again, he hated that name, thats what Richie called him.   
"I hate it when people call me that you know."


	5. cigarrette smoke

Soon Bev was the only person that could get Eddie to laugh, and man she got him to laugh hard. Bev could throw comebacks like no other, and when that went too far Eddie was pretty good at throwing fists. Bev made sure to keep those knuckles of his wrapped and any cuts he got clean, it was a good release for him. She kept a solid collection of medical supplies in a box they ended up storing under a rock down beneath the bridge. They would sit there, skinned knees and bleeding noses, throwing rocks into the creek. Eddie had gotten used to the smoking, it didn't bother his asthma as much as he thought it would but she always asked before she smoked.  
"You good for today?" she mumbled, cigarette already hanging from her lips.  
He nodded as she lit it, eyes following the fire, "hey, gimme one."  
"What?"  
"I wanna try, seeing how much you seem to like them."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah really hand one over."  
"Won't you like, die?"  
"If I was gonna I already would, now stop fussing would you."  
She didn't argue anymore, handing him one, correcting him as he put it incorrectly in his mouth, she brought her old scratched up lighter to help him out. He would be lying if he said he didn't cough, it was a weird feeling but, Eddie found that he liked it. He liked the way it burned a little, he felt like a real teenage rebel with smoke pouring from his lips. Bev seemed pretty entertained by all of it. Leaning back against the cold stone of the bridge supports, laughing as she watched him cough.  
"You doin good?"  
Eddie nodded, still recovering from his coughing fit, face tucked into the crook of his elbow.  
"Tastes like shit," he mumbled.  
"If someone told you they smoked for the taste they'd be a liar," she said, jabbing an elbow teasingly into Eddie's ribs. Bev tossed the cigarette butt down onto the rock by her feet, stomping out the remaining fire and smiling at Eds.  
"Your mom is gonna kill you," she laughed, letting her head flop down onto Eddie's shoulder.  
He chuckled a bit, "probably, I smell enough like smoke as is and she says if she gets one more call about me skipping she'll never let me leave the house."  
"Then why don't we find you some clothes that don't smell like smoke?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"There's that thrift shop down the street past the library, we grab you some new clothes that fit this whole rebel thing you have going on, you don't exactly fit the part when you're in polos and short shorts," she joked, standing up and dusting herself off. Offering a hand to Eddie as she stood. He copied her throw and stomp technique, rolling his eyes at her before they made the climb back up to the main road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is short I'm sorry


	6. done talking

The walk was short, you'd think it'd be simple, but no. It wasn't simple at all. The second that Eddie caught a glimpse of those black curls his stomach sank. Bev didn't notice until Eddie's fingers wrapped around her wrist and he was dragging her behind him. Eddie couldn't talk to Richie, especially not with Connor right by his side, sporting a pretty nasty black eye that came from Eddie. They didn't see them, they were so caught up in each other they probably didn't notice anything. It made Eddie want to puke. He thought they were home free, that they could sneak past and not have to say a word to either of the duo, he thought he would get one day that he didn't want to break someone's nose.  
"Hey! Bev! Eddie spaghetti!"  
He was wrong.  
"Don't fucking call me that," Eddie growled out, not turning around, he wasn't ready to look at him yet.  
"Woah there Eds, whats up with you? I haven't talked to you in ages, its really weird man," Richie said, seemingly unbothered by Eddie's snapping, putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder, the touch made him see red.  
He hit Richie's hand away finally whipping around to scowl at him, "Get you hands off of me."  
Richie finally seemed to notice that Eddie wasn't laughing with him.  
"Eddie?"  
"What do you want Richie?"  
"I just, I wanted to talk to you."  
"Really? Cause it hasn't seemed that way in the month that you haven't even tried to reach out to me."  
Richie stared at him for a minute, he seemed confused.  
"Eddie I'm serious wh-"  
He was cut off by a laugh, "Bull-fucking-shit, you've never been serious."  
"Eddie," Richie pressed, voice stern, something no one ever really heard from him, "what's happening, this isn't you."  
"You don't seem to know shit about me."  
"Eddie I'm your best friend."  
"Fuck off Richie."  
"Eds."  
"Fuck. Off."  
Richie stepped back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he shook his head.  
"I, Eddie what did I do?" Eddie knew that sound in his voice, that was the way his voice sounded right before he started crying. Part of it hurt, the way Richie was looking at him, the way his voice got softer, a lot more personal, the small shakes of his shoulders.  
He wanted to yell at him, he wanted to scream everything Richie did to hurt him, he wanted to hit him, but more than anything he wanted to curl in on himself and cry. He didn't want to be there, staring at his best friend with tears in his eyes, he wanted to disappear.  
"What didn't you do?" he hissed out.  
Richie cautiously reached a hand out, "Eddie I'm sorry for whatever I did just, just talk to me."  
"I'm done talking Richie."  
"Bu-"  
"Done."


	7. that feeling was back again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what I called, Bev is doing her best and I adore her.

Bev had to stop Richie from following Eddie as he stormed down the street. it wasn't easy to do nor fun. Holding back Richie as he watched his best friend walk away, trying to get through to him that it wasn't a good idea. He wouldn't listen, he barely let her get a word in.  
"Bev no I need to, Bev I need to talk to him," He held her by her shoulders, eyes looking through her to follow Eddie as he left.  
"Richie no, you don't need to," She said, trying her best to keep her voice steady.  
"Bev he has to listen to me he can't just, how could he just," he finally seemed to see her, "he wasn't supposed to just leave me."  
The arms that were clutching his shoulders fell pitifully to his sides. Face this empty sorrow she couldn't bare to look at. He stared at her for a second, seemingly trying to form sentences but all he seemed to manage was a shake of the head. He had his hands balled into fists by his side, head hanging down. She didn't know what to do. Opting instead to hugging him. He didn't react, his arms stayed by his side. The only acknowledgment of her even being there was him simply dropping his head into her shoulder.  
"What did I do?"  
"I don't know, I'm sorry."  
It didn't hit her until after that Richie was with Connor Bowers, she wasn't used to seeing him act so nice. He spoke softly to Richie, took him away before she could protest.  
Eddie was just as much of a mess when she found him, crouched in a alley not far, head in his hands, knuckles bleeding, gravel in the scrapes. He felt like he couldn't breath, everything was closing in on him as tears drip down his face. He got that feeling again, the one where it felt like his ribs were breaking and stabbing into his lungs. Where he couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in his ears. He needed to scream or run or do something, for the love of god Eddie do something.  
"You ok?" Bev's voice was soft, but it broke through the buzzing.  
"Do I look ok?" he replied between hiccuping sobs.  
"Stupid question," she chuckled, kneeling down next to him, combing her fingers through his hair for a second, pulling him a bit so he'd lean into her. He appreciated it more than he could ever tell her. They sat quietly like that for a minute, she kept her hands in Eddie's hair, he did his best to be able to breath again. It took Eddie about seven minutes to have enough lung capacity to speak properly again. Bev helped him up when the sobs stopped.  
"Time for a little retail therapy, what do you say sweetheart?"  
Eddie simply nodded, he kept their arms locked as they walked towards the thrift shop. Bev made her trademarked perfect comments, managing to get him to at least crack a smile. As she was thinking over what to say to cheer him up something hit her. Hit her so hard she stopped in her tracks to stare wide eyes at Eddie, things were clicking, things she didn't approve of. One single thing who's name was Connor Bowers.


	8. kinda ok

Bev did her best to distract Eddie, the thrift store was somewhat big, only cause it was the only thrift store in Derry. Isles of bad oversized denim and shirts with the most ungodly prints that Eddie knew Richie would love. Those prints are probably why he's so blind. Eddie wanted to burn them. He bought one just to burn it later, just so Richie could never fucking put his hands on them. Bev could see it when they walked down the rows of them, the tenseness of his shoulders, the fire that started in his eyes. Just hatred, this horrible heartbreaking hatred. She saw it when he ripped the Hawaiian print shirt from the hanger and stared at it, fits clutching the fabric, eyes locked onto it. She was worried he'd tear it to shreds right there and then, or that he'd cry. Eddie wouldn't admit it but she saw. She saw that pain, she saw the Eddie everyone knew, the Eddie he was stomping out, and she saw how much it hurt that Eddie. The Eddie who always looked at Richie like he hung the moon, like every joke he made was pure gold. The one who seemed to think Richies voice was his favorite song, the Eddie who would give Richie the world at the drop of a hat. She could still see him, curled up behind the thick gravely exterior, she heard his voice even though it was coated in venom.   
Bev didn't know what to do, she wanted to help Eddie grow and be happy but everything he seemed to do only sunk him further into his own seething anger. She wanted to help him so his hands wouldn't shake so bad anymore, so he could let the tenseness melt from his shoulders, so he could breath properly again.   
Eddie seemed to like a certain kind of look, Bev made suggestions about stuff but Eddie stuck fast to his ideas. He liked old torn denim, stuff that would fit baggy on him and band shirts that he had no clue about, Bev promised to show him later and he seemed happy enough with that. They dug through jackets and jeans, shirts and hats and old pictures. Bev didn't realize Eddie could get so excited over platform shoes or a worn leather bomber jacket but damn he fucking did. She didn't expect him to go head first into all of it but he sure seemed excited to, and she wasn't one to deny his happiness after seeing him with a scowl for so long. He slowly piled up a nice selection of clothes. He didn't try on the clothes, Bev knew he wouldn't, despite everything even touching them for too long seemed to make him uncomfortable.   
"Wanna crash at Ben's house, I bet he'd let you wash those clothes before you go home," Bev suggested at the checkout. Eddie was digging through his backpack for money and simply nodded.  
Ben let them in the back door, he was confused, which was reasonable, he hadn't talked to Eddie in weeks thanks to him not being at school and now he was in his kitchen rambling out apologies to him. Bev seemed to know Ben's place well enough to find the way to the washer and dryer pretty quickly as Ben talked to Eddie.   
"Sorry for, well," Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, "disappearing on you man."  
Eddie didn't get a reply exactly, just a quick nice hug, Ben's hug were always nice.   
"You've had all of us worried."  
"Yeah, sorry about that."  
"Stan has been plotting your murder for ditching us like that and stealing Bev, I'm pretty sure Bill is in on that murder plan, Mike is just worried man what's happening."  
"I just, I have a lot going on I guess, I can make my apologies to them on my own time."  
"I'm glad you're ok, well,, kinda ok?"  
"Kinda ok."


	9. apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok listen, I wanted to give Mike his knowledge of Derry's history back so I did, it really bothered me how they took that from him so he gets it back.

Stan got his apology in the form of bird watching. After getting a well deserved fist to the bicep and his ear talked off they made their way out to a small clearing by the wooded part of town, they shared binoculars, sitting on a picnic blanket amongst the tall grass and wildflowers. They sat under the sprawling blue sky, Eddie didn't know much about birds and instead flopped onto his back, watching the fluffy clouds with his head resting comfortably on Stan's thigh. He'd eventually drift off to sleep, a good proper sleep, the first that he's had in months, only to be pulled out again to look at a bird, some kind of a bluebird or a corvid, he didn't exactly know. He sat there, cheek pressed against Stan's so that he could look through the binoculars. His tired eyes searched for the small blip of a creature Stan was listing off facts about. Eddie opted to letting his head flop onto Stan's shoulder as he speaks. They sat there with their lunch, Eddie eventually fell asleep again next to Stan, the sunshine warming his face.   
Bill's apology was a bunch of books, Eddie showed up at his house with piles of books for him, a small smile on his face before softly apologizing. Bill let him in, he liked Eddie's new look, the spikes were kinda cool and he liked them, the patches that Bev had made for him were nice too, sewn on messily to this big denim jacket, eventually Bill would make him a couple too. They sat mostly quietly, Bill let Eddie go over the rough drafts of his stories as he read over on his bed. Eddie always liked reading Bill's writing, it was always pretty easy to tell who the characters were based off of, but his endings were always kinda bad or just blatantly not there. Eddie didn't mind that though since he got to make up his own endings in his head. Sometimes he got to suggest words or endings, give praise or criticism, Bill always seemed to appreciate it. Then he joined him on the bed, looking through each book, explaining why that was the selection he chose to give him.   
Mike's apology was a solid trip to the library, Eddie was a good extra hand when looking through the old newspapers and with the way Mike told it he was always happy to learn the history of the town. They sat in a dusty corner and rummaged through the newspapers and old yearbooks. Mike had a notebook by his side and this nice Polaroid camera Bill had saved up for so he could give it to him on his birthday. He would take pictures of articles and put them in their proper place in the journal he had, amongst copies of maps and buildings, all meticulously hand drawn. Eddie admired the detail, and had recently learned to admire the disaster that the journal was. He used to be absolutely lost to the idea of organized chaos, but now he was more focused on the colors of the pen and the way it was all formatted. It made sense.   
Ben got a proper apology the Saturday after Eddie and Bev came to his house. When he had gotten the books for Bill he came across a small collection of poetry. Ben had never told him about his love for the art but Eddie knew. He noticed the small stanzas in his math notebook, he noticed the way Ben would explain certain things, he noticed that the note Bev got was no where near the kind of stuff Bill wrote. They sat in the park, under a big oak tree, surrounded by old books and stacks of torn out poems, with one thick tipped sharpie between the two. Ben had mentioned blackout poetry at some point, he was talking about an English assignment or something, Eddie found some of the best books for it he could. He liked it a lot, the act of destruction but creation at the same time, it felt right, like a release. Ben wrote really good poetry he realized, he let him go through some of them, all really nice and soft, Eddie guessed the majority were about Bev. His poetry was much different, it was angry, angry words, and angry method, paper drenched in rage, words dripping in agony, Ben didn't know what to say to him about it.   
Beverly's apology wasn't exactly an apology. Eddie didn't feel the need to apologize to her, but, he did have a shirt to burn. Bev snuck him out of his house at midnight on a school night. They road their bikes through the cold empty streets, illuminated by amber windows of light that made Bev's hair look like a sunset and Eddie's eyes look like new pennies. Bev dragged an old trashcan with her half the way to be their fire pit. They planted themselves down by the river, throwing in whatever sticks and brush they could before Bev poured nail polish remover on the mess and tossed in the match. Eddie was nothing but happy to watch the disgusting fabric burn, to watch it glow red in the can. He was also nothing but happy when he lit his cigarette with the same crackling fire. Both were too caught up in the moment to see the boy they had awoken who stood up at the main road watching them as they laughed, smoke pouring from their mouths. They were blind to his tears fogging up his glasses, they were blind to his shaky hands holding his handlebars. Eddie's chest was filled with fire that night, but that fire was stolen from someone else, who was now left cold. Watching from the main road, the figure was gone.


	10. A map of him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my fic, I give Richie as many freckles as I want.

Eddie wished he could say that after that night he didn't think of Richie. He wished he could act like it didn't matter, but he couldn't. He couldn't just act like every time he hears someone with a stupid laugh he didn't turn expecting to see Richie in a stupid Hawaiian shirt with his lips curled up at the corners, with his eyes magnified by those dumb glasses of his. He couldn't just act like every time he saw someone with fluffy dark hair out of the corner of his eyes he didn't stop to debate calling out to them, hoping maybe it'd be him, hoping maybe he could watch the way his hair moved when he whipped his head around one more time. He couldn't say that every time he saw one of those ugly shirts he didn't think about the last time he hugged Richie, thinking about wrapping his arms around his waist under those dumb shirts, thinking about how warm he was. He couldn't act like he didn't hear stupid jokes and feel this nasty tug in his chest that made him suffocate himself in smoke. He couldn't act like he didn't wake up every morning and see himself in the mirror and remember how Richie said he liked it messy. He couldn't just get rid of it.   
Eddie couldn't count the nights he sat in the dark of his room, looking up at his ceiling and every glowing plastic star that Richie put up there for him. He let his lips form the names of the constellations Richie dreamt up. He couldn't find the energy in him to take them all down. He had to stop himself from climbing out of his window and running to Richies house. He made Bev take back the lighter she gave him. The flames were too tempting, the craving for warmth, the craving to burn away his fingerprints, to just disappear.   
He moved all the stuff Richie had left at his house into a box that got buried deep into his closet. The extra pairs of glasses he kept for when Richie's would break. The stupid brightly colored bandaids he got just to annoy Richie but they never annoyed him. He wore them with pride, the neon greens and pinks and blues were badges of honor. He'd sit on Eddie's bed and let him clean every scrape and cut on his constantly grinning face. His skin was always soft. Eddie knew exactly how many freckles were scattered across his face. Like every star they had captured his attention, Richie never called him out for staring. He never told Eddie about the way his hands floated subconsciously as he studied him, like two matching sides of a magnet, like he was too afraid to touch the other boy without even knowing. Eddie could list his favorite freckles.   
He liked the one right under Richie's left eye, it was faint, just like the others, and every time Richie laughed it disappeared. His glasses always helped magnify it, but you wouldn't notice unless you were staring right at him for a while. Eddie only noticed it the day that Richie wrestled him to the ground and sent them toppling down a hill at the park. They got covered in grass stains that Eddie still can't fully get out of what used to be his favorite shirts. He had Richie pinned to the dirk, twigs and grass woven into both of their hair. Richies was like a dark halo that circled his face like a mane. He only saw it when Richie stopped laughing to breath, those dark eyes locked with Eddie's for a moment, neither of them knew how long. Eddie needed somewhere else to look, something that didn't pull him like Richie's eyes did. He didn't know what it was, being that close to him he could see every dark eyelash, every curl and dip in his iris. He felt lost in the warm look, Richie's eyes always reminded him of hot chocolate, good hot chocolate, homemade not powder. The hot chocolate they used to make in the winter.   
He liked the two that were right on his Cupid's bow. They were almost lost in the scar Richie got from a pretty nastily thrown punch to the mouth. He came to Eddie's house with a bandaid half in his mouth and a milkshake as payment. Eddie snuck him through the house to sit him on the bathroom counter, he had to hold him still half the time cause he disinfectant hurt. Hand cupping his jaw, fingers weaving into soft curls of hair. He had to try to keep Richie from laughing, every time he did he would reopen the cut and they'd have to start all over again. Eddie spent half an hour stifling laughs so not to draw his mom's attention. Every time he pressed the disinfectant soaked cotton ball to Richie's upper lip the other boy's hand would raise, his long fingers would wrap around Eddie's wrist, not trying to stop him, just holding.   
He liked the one that landed on Richie's jaw, under his right ear. You could only see it when he pushed his hair behind his ear now that his hair had grown out. Eddie always got to see it when they stayed out past dinner time in the summer, when they sat up on the bridge, legs hanging off, melting ice cream in their hands, Eddie always stole licks of Richies bomb pops. They could watch the sun set from there, when the clouds were painted in reds and oranges, when Richie was painted in gold. He'd push his hair behind his ear so he could watch the sunset. Richie always loved sunsets, Eddie could care less if he was watching them with Richie next to him. He had seen enough sunsets, and Richie would always tell him about it on the way home anyways. Looking at Richie was different. He was like a renaissance painting, idiot in oils is what Eddie would title it. He couldn't truly know every stray hair, every shadow across his skin, every wrinkle when Richie smiled, or when he squinted to keep the sun out of his eyes. The only part of sunsets Eddie really liked was how Richie got lost in them.  
Eddie wanted to suffocate himself whenever he went swimming in those memories.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this really late at night and will probably edit it in the morning, happy New Years

Throughout the rest of freshman and sophomore year Eddie had a lot of firsts. 

He had his first drink. A swig of fireball Bev snuck from her aunt. That made him cough more than any cigarettes did. They were sat at their new favorite spot, down by the river, fire lit in their trash can. Bottle mostly empty, he pressed it to his lips and let it slip down into his stomach.  
"It tastes like hell."  
"Yeah I know."  
"No no no, literal hell, like hell fire, like the devil himself came in my mouth and I swallowed."  
"Oddly specific there Eds, fantasy of yours?"  
"I swear to god I'll strangle you."  
He got properly drunk for the first time at Ben's new year party. He had snuck away from his mom after she fell asleep on the couch watching her soaps. Bev brought more alcohol, this time he didn't know what but it made his chest warm and he liked it. He spent the night tangling his hands into Stan's hair and mumbling absolute bullshit about whatever music they were listening to. Back up against the wall, Stan slowly falling asleep against his chest. Mike and Bill went over to Richie's for new years, Stan started there too but came to Ben's pretty soon after. He didn't seem to mind the tipsy Eddie who was a solid couple inches taller thanks to his shoes. He happily made comments about the spikes on Eddie's jacket.  
"You smell like alcohol," he mumbled after he made his way into Ben's room.  
"Yeah, I bet I also taste like alcohol," Eddie mumbled, not standing cause he knew even in that stupid state that he would fall on his face and that would worry Ben's parents.  
"Ringing in the new year by," he paused to raise an eyebrow in that very Stan way he does, "not remembering it?"  
"I'm not that bad," he mumbled from his corner.  
They sat all night listening to records, sitting in a circle around the small room. Stan fell asleep in Eddie's lap, Bev made fun of them, all amongst the quiet giggling of drunkenness. Stan's hair was soft, and it was nice to have a calmer night with his friends.  
His first hangover was the morning after. Nursed by a nice meal from Ben and soft nagging from Stan. Bev was still asleep.  
His first trip was during a party Sophomore year. He didn't know who's house he was in and he definitely didn't know exactly what he took. He lost Bev an hour or so into the night, ended up sitting in a bathtub, knee to knee with this other boy who was off it. He had these nice blue eyes that Eddie could barely see the color thanks to his blown out pupils. His limbs were much too lanky to fit in the tub alone and Eddie defiantly wasn't helping. They couldn't make actual conversation, sitting and giggling. He tried to complement his hair, the soft black curls that framed his face, pulled back messily on top of his head. He could get that one but as the boy laughed Eddie found his brain properly melting out his ears. The boys long ringed fingers found their way to Eddie's shoulders and eventually to gently rest against his neck as he tried to mumble a complement back.  
"your jacket is like," He paused to snort which only made him laugh more, "shiny."  
Eddie stared at him for a second, amused by what he was trying to say, "Yeah?"  
"Yeahhh."  
Eddie spent a solid while laughing at this boy as the high set in. He sat with him for what could be hours or minutes, hands messing up hair, pulling at cheeks, crumpling up shirts, and wrapped around wrists.  
His first kiss was that same night, in that same bathtub, with that same boy. Eddie had his hands on the boy's cheeks, watching him smile.  
"Dude you have dents in your cheeks," he mumbled. The boy bumped his forehead against Eddie's, still smiling and chuckling. His voice wrapped around Eddie's head and wormed its way into his mind before it was the only thing that possessed his thoughts. He swore this man was some kind of god, from the way his shoulders shook when he laughed, how his teeth caught at his bottom lip when he smiled, the way his lips curled up at the side when he laughed, his lips were a soft pink. Soft. They looked so soft.  
"Not dents, dimples," the boy corrected, voice soft and low as his hands rested on Eddie's knees.  
"What?'  
"I don't have dents in my cheeks love, I have dimples."  
"Oh right," Eddie mumbled, distracted, eyes no longer wandering the boy's face, they seemed to lock on his lips as he spoke, "dimples."  
Eddie's hands felt right when they were on this boy's cheeks. His thumb dragging lazily across his skin. He was soft. Every part of him seemed soft, his jacket, his eyes, his hair, his lips, just soft. Eddie no longer knew if the muffled pounding was his heart or the music of the party. Everything felt like it melted away, like the two of them were floating in this technicolor void, only kept from drifting away completely thanks to their tangled legs and Eddie's hands holding his face.  
"Can I kiss you?" he hummed, voice soft and a bit far away. The boy seemed unfazed.  
"Be my guest sweetheart."  
Eddie didn't know what kissing was gonna be like but it wasn't what he thought it would be. Mostly the fact he was kissing a boy. Part of him always worried about what he'd do with a girl who's wearing lipgloss or lipstick, he didn't like the idea of that. He was glad he wasn't dealing with that, he was glad that it was this. He was right about the soft lips, and he tasted like mint chapstick. Eddie liked feeling this boys hands in his hair, he liked the slight battle of power before eventually winning whatever slight control there was. His hands eventually ended up clutching the boy's jacket, pulling him close, chest pressed to chest, lips locked with lips.  
He was left thinking about it for weeks. Eddie kicked himself for not getting a name.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this is really short and boring, I'm sorry I haven't updated, I've been really busy and my writing block bit me in the ass, I'll get back in the swing of things soon enough.

"You kissed him?"   
"Yeah."  
Bev wasn't as entertained by Eddie's little party disappearance as he was.   
"I don't see what the problem is," Eddie mumbled, head dangling off the edge of her bed.   
"Really?"   
"Really."  
"Black hair, kinda fluffy, tall, no issues?" she asked, seeming to imply something Eddie didn't exactly understand.  
"He was hot, whats the issue Bev, I just kissed the dude."  
"A dude who bares a striking resemblance to your old best friend," she said, voice annoyed.   
Eddie paused, he couldn't argue with that much. The hair and height were right, but the voice wasn't, or his eyes, Richie didn't have dimples either.   
"So?"  
"So I think when you told me you didn't like Richie was bull."  
"OK not fucking true," Eddie sat up again to stare at Bev, "I need liked him and I never will, I'm pretty sure I'm not even gay."  
"You made out with a boy in a bathtub that you didn't even know."  
"Made out is a stretch," Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms and getting up to look out her window, "I was high, it was just a kiss."   
She shook her head at him but dropped the subject. Eddie watched for a minute as she dragged a brush loaded with black paint over her nails, "What are you doing?"   
"painting my nails?"   
He rolled over to join her on the floor, holding his hands out to her. She looked at him for a moment, down to his outstretched fingers, and right back up to his expectant face.   
"Do you, do you want me to paint your nails?"  
"yeah."


	13. Can you remember things that never happened?

The first time Eddie got kicked out was half way into junior year, when he came home half stoned and with a very shoddily done mohawk.  
It was some time in November, he didn't know the exact day, but it was damn cold out there, snow littering the street as he walked home, his hands shoved into his pockets. A cigarette hung lazily between his lips, the only real warmth for him as he crunched through the snow that was soaking into his shoes. He had fingerless gloves but those didn't do much, not to mention his ears were damn cold.  
He liked walking around at night, it was always quiet, the snow made it quieter. It was pretty to watch the snow drift down, the light was nice from the street lamps, the warmth of that dulled orange glow, it made time slow down, made it change.  
He was walking with Richie, hand in hand, Richie was warm, he always was warm. Eddie was watching himself from behind, like a stranger, a stalker, he felt like he was walking faster, like he was chasing it, this memory, was it even a memory? It had to be right, Eddie's hair was normal, he was dressed like he used to dress, he was wearing Richie's jacket. Richie's jacket was too big on him, just as warm as his hand, but just like his hand it felt like it fit just right. He was talking, rambling like he was always rambling, going on and on with a smile on his face, that damned smile. Eddie was sprinting now, feet pounding against the street, lungs burning, reaching out, hands strained as he grasped, he watched himself, he watched as they walked at the same pace but no matter what he did he couldn't catch up.  
"no, stop, wait up! Please you need to wait!" his voice was strained it was drowned out by the snow. Eddie felt his foot catch and then he went tumbling. His world spun, then rolled, before he was face down in the snow, panting, freezing, his head was aching, the snow by his hands were stained a startling red and for a moment he didn't know why until the stinging in his hands kicked in.  
"Please you need to wait," his voice was a weak plea. His hands trembled as he pushed himself up, eyes properly focusing as the lights flickered on in the house he landed in front of. He didn't know what time it was, but he knew he looked absolutely insane. It didn't click until he stepped out onto the front porch. Until he saw the curls, he heard the cautious call of his name. Richie's house. How the fuck did he end up here, he wasn't even close to Richie's house why was he in the road out front. More importantly, why did he want to go in, why did he want Richie's help. Why the fuck did his chest ache, why did he want Richie to rush over, to pull him up and inside, to wrap him in a blanket and tell him everything would be ok? Why did he want Richie to fix all of this bullshit?  
"Eddie what the fuck," Richie was crossing the yard toward him, scrambling to put his glasses on, "Eddie what happened to you, what are you doing here?"  
Eddie didn't hear him finish, he was off again. Eddie ran faster then he had ever run, he just broke out sprinting. Eddie wasn't Eddie anymore, Eddie wasn't anyone anymore, he wasn't thinking, he was just reacting, all he knew was he couldn't do that, he just couldn't. Not tonight. Not ever. Eddie only stopped when he realized he had no clue where he was. He was completely lost. there weren't any street lamps anymore, he couldn't see street signs if there were any, he was hopelessly lost.  
Being lost wasn't his concern, his concern was why Richie's house? Why after everything did he go to Richie's house? Why did he want to go back?


	14. disassociating

Bev found him on the curb, at three in the god damn morning. His head tucked between his knees, his fingers practically blue, tangled into his hair, he was shivering, shivering bad. She pulled over, Ben had lent her his car when she called about Eddie after Rich had called her telling her what happened. He seemed so out of it. He wasn't Eddie, he wasn't there in this space or time, he looked right through her.  
"Eddie," her voice was soft as she climbed out of the car.  
She got no response.  
"Eddie I'm going to help you into the car alright, we're going to go back to my place," she told him, gently reaching out to help him stand.  
The drive home was painfully silent, Eddie was a husk, head leaned up against her window, eyes following the lights but he didn't seem at all responsive. She tried to ignore it, she was attempting to drive home, not focus on watching him, not focusing on the feeling she's got in her stomach, that horrible sinking feeling. Getting into her apartment was pretty easy, her dad was passed out, Eddie was quiet.  
She got him pulled into the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet lid to patch him up to the best of her ability. She ended up cleaning his cuts and covering them as best as possible with bright pink bandaids. It took over an hour for Eddie to seem fully there mentally, and even when that happened he simply passed out for the night.


	15. aftermath

"Richie's house?" Bev asked with her mouth full of toast. She had let Eddie sleep in, skipping school to make sure Eddie was ok and try to understand what happened.   
Eddie nodded, "Richie's house."   
She was leaning on the back two legs of her chair, "you guys haven't talked in ages what the hell."  
Eddie shrugged, shoving more eggs into his mouth, he was hungry, really really hungry. He is also incredibly confused, he can't remember most of last night, he can just remember Richie. He can remember how his hair looked, it was freshly cut, messed up with sleep, thrown into a messy nest on his head, it bounced when he walked. He can remember how his face looked, the concern, the age, Richie got older, I mean he knew that's how time worked but he looked older. His face had thinned out, his bone structure had strengthened, he got taller, taller then he already was. His shoulders got wider and his shirts seemed to fit on him better, he wasn't Eddie's Richie. Well, he never was really. He remembered exactly how it sounded to hear Richie say his name again.  
"Eds," Bev pulled him out of the clouds, "you got a little spacey there man, what happened last night?"  
"My mom kicked me out," he mumbled. Bev was quiet but her face twisted into anger.   
"She did fucking what?" the four legs of her chair came thumping to the floor.   
"She kicked me out," he repeated, looking up at her, "she said I was a disgrace, that how I acted was disgusting, that my relationship with men is, it's, she-"  
"Your relationship with men isn't any of her god damn business Eds, there's nothing wrong with those relationships."   
He shook his head a little, "she's going to tell everyone Bev."   
Everyone is going to know. Richie is going to know.   
"She's a god damn rat Eds," she stood up, slamming her hands on the table so hard the silverware shook. Eddie flinched. Bev had started to pace up and down the length of the small kitchen. Eddie pulled his knees up onto the chair so he could stuff his face in between his knees. Bev huffed before she stormed off to her room, he followed her after hearing a couple minuted of rustling.   
"What are you doing?"  
"I'm setting up a proper bed for tonight so I don't have to sleep in my desk chair, then I'm calling the others to get this all figured out.   
Eddie looked at her for a second before frowning, "Not Richie.   
"Eddie he's worried about you, if it weren't for him I wouldn't have found you last night."  
"Not Richie," he repeated.   
"Eddie he want's to help."  
"I don't want him to know," he insisted, face scrunched up. Bev stood quietly for a moment, arms full of pillows she was tossing onto the floor. She dropped them to pinch the bridge of her nose, shaking her head a little.   
Eddie knew he missed Richie, Eddie knew he needed him back, not just wanting, actually needing. Richie had been there for everything, every single stupid thing that fucked Eddie's life up, and now he wasn't, and Eddie felt like he was falling, he was spiraling and everyone saw it, even if he didn't want them to. He didn't want Richie to know he still had that power, he didn't want Richie to know if he called Eddie would come running.   
"Eddie you need-"  
"I don't need shit."


End file.
